Lullaby of War
by NerdGirl95
Summary: "The pain you felt that night was as sharp as that of a fatal injury, and even now every thought of her is like bumping an existing bruise – it doesn't always hurt but once you touch it, the pain comes back in full." Augusta Longbottom's experience of the two wars and just what it took away from her.


**Written for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Year One: Exams (bubblegum pink, rose red, Ronald Weasley, special, injure, rumbled, second person, no dialogue and "Maybe one day I can stand again, maybe soon, I can learn to wipe my hands of this, and start anew - Artists vs poets, alive"**

**Written for The Quidditch League Semi-finals, Keeper: Write about a minor character saying goodbye to someone/something important to them (Augusta Longbottom)**

**Lullaby of War**

You knew a girl once, with blonde, corkscrew curls, a smile a mile wide and a personality as bubbly as a glass of champagne. She was a happy-go-lucky sort of girl, running into walls and tripping over air. But you loved her anyway. Everyone has that special person, that person who brightens your life and makes even the worst day seem alright. She was your special person. Really, she was your son's special person first – and he married her, so he technically had the monopoly on her – but you couldn't help it. Alice Prewitt had a habit of crashing – quite literally – into someone's life and rooting herself there. And quite frankly, Alice had become the daughter you never had, long before it was made legal.

But that was all taken from you in one cruel night. Your son, your brave, intelligent son with the quiet voice and gentle smile was now little more than a shell, his voice silenced and his mouth in a permanent line. And Alice, beautiful, loving Alice. Her hair now white and wispy, her smile a mere shadow and her personality flattened. The pain you felt that night was as sharp as that of a fatal injury, and even now every thought of her is like bumping an existing bruise – it doesn't always hurt but once you touch it, the pain comes back in full force.

You met another girl, years later, with bubblegum-pink hair and an extra spring in her step. She might have been young, but she _knew_. Knew what it felt like to have to say goodbye to those she loved – first her muggle grandparents, then her own father – never knowing if you will be able to talk to them, laugh with them, smile at them again. She called it the lullaby of war, all those constant goodbyes.

She made those dark days of war just a little brighter, with her coloured hair and ever-changing face. Her clumsiness both broke the tense silences and reminded you of that other young girl you knew, but somehow it never hurt as much as you thought it would. Nymphadora Tonks was your new special person – not a replacement, no one could ever replace Alice – but another girl to talk with and mentor and to try to forget the war with.

And so as the two of you left that room to let Harry, Ron and Hermione do Merlin-knows-what, you gave her an uncharacteristic hug and hoped against hope that you wouldn't lose her too. And as the castle rumbled and shook with the force of spells and the footfalls of giants you kept just as keen an eye out for her as you did for your own grandson, because somewhere along the line she had become your granddaughter and to lose her would be to lose part of yourself.

Despite her pleas to _just stay safe_ you fight. Oh yes you fight, because what else can you do? Not only because she and Neville fighting, but all those other children you have watched grow up – Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron and Ginny Weasley, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones. All of those children who were born during the last war and were affected more than they could ever know. All of those children who had been forced to grow up faster than they should because they were left to carry out the tasks that those older than them wouldn't. Yes, you fight because if they are then you have to as well, because Merlin knows someone has to help those children.

So you fight, with spells and plants and pieces of debris lobbed at an oncoming enemy. And you fight until you hear it – a heart-wrenching scream coming from the floor above you. _Her_ scream. And you run faster than you have ever run before hoping to make it in time. You couldn't save Alice but maybe, just maybe, you will be able to save Tonks.

She is still alive when you get to her, writhing in pain as Bellatrix casts Crucio upon Crucio. You send a barrage of hexes at her – this monster who has already taken a daughter from you – but she gives you a look of contempt and turns her attention to a group of Aurors who have just rounded the corner behind her.

As you kneel beside Tonks – who has never looked as young and vulnerable as she does now – you know there is no hope. Her face is stark white, contrasting with the trickle of rose-red blood running down from her hairline. All you can do is gather her into your arms and hold her close as she slowly fades away. For that is what it seems like. Less of a sudden change between alive and dead and more of a slow fade across the great divide. And when it's over you add another goodbye to the lullaby of war, make sure her (precious) corpse is safe from being further mangled by the battle, and continue on, because Neville still needs you and you are _not_ going to lose another person to this war.

One day, you will be able to move on again. One day you will pick yourself up once more and dust yourself off and continue to live your life. After all, the war has been won and you still have Neville, and a whole new era is starting. But you will never forget either of them. Not the happy-go-lucky girl with the blonde curls who literally crashed into your life nor the pink-haired, larger-than-life woman who brightened even the darkest day. Yes, one day the wounds will heal and the bruises will fade and life will regain some semblance of normalcy, but for now all you can do is remember the good times and continue to sing the lullaby of war, for as long as it continues they will never be forgotten.


End file.
